Reinventing Romeo
by KaRi6
Summary: An FBI agent, Corporate PlayBoy, Crazed Hitman. What more can i say? ^_~ R/R please....
1. The Meeting

Disclaimer: This Disclaimer applies to all future reference of this   
Fan Fiction.   
  
Sailor Moon is copyright © 1992 Naoko Takeuchi/Kodansha, TOEI   
Animation. English Language Adaptation © 1995 DiC Entertainment.  
  
And…  
  
'Reinventing Romeo' is basing itself on another. In giving credit to   
the book, Plagiarism is not in effect. Reinventing Romeo is copyright ©   
2000 Connie Laux/Lane; Cover art copyright © Bill Schmidt.   
  
Many Thanks for such a excellent story for so many to enjoy.  
  
Reinventing Romeo  
  
Author: Dipi  
  
Genre: Alternate Reality, Fantasy , Action, Romance   
  
Rating: R   
  
Chapter 1  
  
Inside of the FBI headquarters in New York City, sat on her left was   
white haired man in a blue-striped suit, and that man just so happened   
to be her immediate superior. On her right sat a tight-lipped   
representative of the New York City Police Department. An attractive   
middle-aged woman from the mayor's office sat next to him. She was   
dressed covered in red staring dreamily at the man pacing in the   
particularly spacious room.  
  
Two plainclothes detectives sat directly across from Serena, their   
backs to the floor-to-ceiling viewing windows. She'd worked with them   
for the last nine months, though not always amicably. Now they were   
finally close to blowing the top off a money-laundering scheme the   
likes of which even this town hadn't seen in years, and the cops made   
no secret of what they thought of having what they optimistically   
called 'their work' usurped by the FBI.  
  
And then there was Darien Romero.   
  
The last time she had seen Darien Romero, he was wearing nothing but   
one of those swimsuits that show off way more of a man's body than they   
actually cover.  
  
It was blue, a shade darker than the dark sapphire eyes placed upon his   
breath-taking face as a gift from god. Water sparkled off every   
delicious inch of his well-tanned body.   
  
The swimsuit was tapered enough to make the most of his broad   
shoulders, small enough to show off his washboard abs and rock-hard   
stomach, but tight enough to ignite any number of fantasies.  
  
Every one of which came back to Serena Ellison in a flash that made her   
insides warm and tingly.  
  
This was not the time or the place to be thinking in such a way, and   
just to remind herself, she looked around the rectangular shaped table   
where she was seated,  
  
Serena Ellison demanded herself to calm down. She forced herself to   
forget the image of Romero in his swimsuit, the one she, and at least a   
couple million other women had drooled over when it had appeared on the   
cover of a popular supermarket tabloid under the headline   
  
World's Sexiest Man – Millionaire Playboy Romero is Jet Set Romeo.  
  
It took more willpower than she knew to convince herself that a long,   
heart trending sigh wasn't wise. Or professional. If a picture was   
worth a thousand words, the real Darien Romero, live, in person, and in   
an incredible package of poise, polish, and a suit that looked like it   
cost more than she made in a month, was worth more than any fashion   
magazine, gossip column, or tabloid.  
  
He was a smidgen under 6 feet 4, with the chiseled features and dark   
eyes that made so many women all over the world swoon over. Though   
Serena had been introduced to him only a few short minutes earlier, she   
already knew that he more than lived up to his prodigy. He was   
confident, refined, aristocratic, and even sexier in person than he was   
in print, and at the moment, as stubborn as a pig.  
  
There was no doubt about it: Darien Romero was the Romeo of the   
tabloids. He had the patrician good looks, the razor sharp mind of a   
man who'd attended all the best boarding schools.  
  
Right then, he was also in something of a crisis.  
  
"You can't possibly know what you're asking from me." With the slow   
lift of one eyebrow, Romero let them know exactly what he though of the   
plan they'd proposed.  
  
It was not the response Serena was expecting from a man she had assumed   
would be reasonable; one who was apparently intelligent enough to run a   
corporation that employed more people rivaling Bill Gates. A little   
disappointed, she straightened herself up in her seat and watched as   
Romero rose from his leather cushioned chair and leaned forward, his   
hands flat against the polished marble tabletop. As eminently composed   
as he was obviously piqued, he flashed a look down the long table.  
  
"Are you out of your minds?"  
  
"It will only be for four months."   
  
Artemis Harrison, the special agent in charge of local FBI operations   
and Serena's boss, was enough of an old combatant not to be   
intimidated.   
  
Or at least not to give you any idea about it.  
  
He poked one finger at the report on the table in front of him.   
  
"We've been through it all before. Our people talked to your people.   
Your people were supposed to talk to you, and-"  
  
One of Romero's hands went up, stopping Artemis mid-sentence. Romero   
shot a look toward a middle-aged man who stood behind the massive desk   
that dominated the far end of the room. Early on in her investigation,   
Serena had talked to Kenneth Fielding. She knew he served as a   
combination of Wilson [A.N.- Cast Away ;)] and confidante to Romero,   
but the look his boss gave him made her wonder how much longer he'd   
stay in the inner circle. And out of the unemployment lines.  
  
"My people," Romero said, "were told not to talk to your people." He   
shifted his gaze back to Artemis. "My people were told to tell you   
we'd see you when the time was right. In court."  
  
Artemis could be the very soul of discretion, but apparently, even he   
found it hard to believe they were meeting a brick wall. "It's not as   
bad as it sounds," he said in a mollifying voice his direct reporters   
hardly ever heard.  
  
"Believe Me. We've got all the details worked out. If you'd like to   
look this over…" When he offered a slim stack of papers, and Romero   
firmly refused to even glance at it, Artemis's cheeks went a hue of   
blue.  
  
"Four Months isn't forever. After the trial is over, you can get back   
to your life."  
  
"Impossible!"   
  
Romero's sniff of disrespect could only be portrayed as epic.  
  
"I have business to conduct. Important business. A man of my stature   
simply can't up and disappear. Not for four months. Not even for four   
days. A corporation like this doesn't run itself. Not when you've got   
fifteen different divisions reporting to one office. And to one man."   
He allowed the thinnest of smiles to touch his face. "Me."  
  
Artemis didn't smile back. "That's all well and good," he said. "But-"  
  
"There are no buts." Fitfully, Romero undid the button on the jacket of   
his impeccably tailored Armani suit. He paced to the windows and, one   
arm braced against the glass, leaned forward, his back to the room.   
Obviously he was used to having the last word in any conversation, and   
just as obviously he was telling them that the topic was no longer open   
for discussion.  
  
The two detectives shuffled their feet and the papers on the table in   
front of them. The man from the police commissioner's office looked up   
at the ceiling. The woman representing the mayor studied her red nail   
polish.  
  
"Spoiled-son-of-a-," Artemis's growl was loud enough for only Serena to   
hear. She stifled a giggle and sat back to watch, more interested now   
in how the game was being played out than she was fascinated at the one   
whom it was directed to.  
  
It was funny how quickly reality could chase away fantasies, especially   
for a woman as down-to-earth as Serena.  
  
No illusions or delusions.  
  
Wasn't that what she always said about herself?  
  
It hadn't taken her long to see through the illusion that was Darien   
Romero. And as for delusions that his personality might actually match   
the fantasy lover she'd built in her head?  
  
She smiled again, and then erased the expression before Artemis could   
see it and wonder why one of his most dependable special agents was   
suddenly acting like a lunatic in a situation that was far from funny.   
Free of Romero's spell, she was able to assess the man objectively for   
the first time.  
  
She would have had to be completely without imagination not to   
appreciate the dramatic silhouette he made against the glass. But this   
time when she let her gaze skim over his shoulders, she noticed not how   
broad they were, but how stiffly he held them, which was obstinate to   
the last. His head was turned for effect, his chin firm and   
inflexible. Just like his personality.  
  
Kate wondered how long he would stand that way and pretend they didn't   
exist. But even as soon as the question presented itself, she knew the   
answer. He would stand there forever if he had to. He would do   
anything, to anyone, at any time, to get what he wanted. And right   
now, Darien Romero wanted to be left alone.   
  
Surprisingly it was the woman from the mayor's office who had the nerve   
to break the silence. She cleared her throat, coughed politely.  
  
"I suppose, Mr. Romero, that you're worried about the meeting of the   
city business leaders' consortium." It was more of a question than a   
statement, as if she were testing the waters before she took the chance   
of dipping a toe into them. "The meeting is scheduled for July and if   
everything goes as planned, you'd be gone in July." She sighed and   
drummed her nails against the tabletop. "It would be something of a   
problem of course."  
  
"Something of a problem?" Romero's statement was an echo of the   
woman's, but it contained far more cynicism than Serena would've   
expected to come from the mouth of an esteemed man.  
  
"I've got twelve hundred invitations ready to send out. The most   
influential journalists…the most powerful businessmen…" Even a man as   
articulate as Romero couldn't find the words to voice his outrage. He   
balled one hand into a fist.   
  
"Do you have any idea what you're asking, Sophia? You and the mayor   
don't honestly think I sit here twiddling my thumbs all day, do you?   
Tell me you don't really believe that."  
  
Sophia calmly entwined her fingers on the table in front of her.   
Serena couldn't help but notice that they were trembling just a little.   
  
"Mr. Romero."  
  
She aimed a smile at his back, one that wavered just a bit around the   
edges.   
  
"Of course the mayor doesn't think that at all. He's worried about   
you, as an important member of this community, and as a friend. He   
told me to assure you that the consortium is in good hands. We've   
already contacted Bill Gates, and-,"  
  
"Gates?"  
  
Serena didn't think Romero's back could get any more rigid.  
  
It did.  
  
She didn't think his voice could be any chillier.  
  
But the single word contained all the warmth of an iceberg.   
  
Any other time-in any other circumstances-Serena would have found   
Romero's whole performance laughable. But there was more at stake here   
than Romero being upstaged at some event that sounded more like a media   
circus than a business meeting.  
  
He was messing with the case. Her case. And she'd be damned if she'd   
see it doomed from the start by some pampered Romeo who was more   
worried about his image than he was about his testimony.  
  
Out of patience, she snapped closed the leather portfolio that sat on   
the table in front of her and pushed back her chair. It wasn't until   
she was already on her feet that she even bothered to think about what   
she was doing, and by that time, it was too late. Every eye in the   
place was on her-all but Romero's-but right then, he was the least of   
her problems. Artemis Harrison didn't stop her. He must have thought   
she had a plan.  
  
Now all she had to do was come up with one.  
  
Stalling for time, Serena scraped a hand through her blonde bangs.  
  
"He's right," she said with a look toward Romero. Had he bothered to   
look at the expression on her face, he would have seen that she didn't   
think he was right at all. "Mr. Romero is absolutely right. He wants   
to stay in town until July so he can host his important meeting, who   
are we to stop him?"  
  
In one quick movement, she reached for her black leather purse, pulled   
it open, and grabbed the first folding money she could find. It was a   
single wrinkly dollar, and she waved it in the air for everyone to see,   
then tossed it into the center of the table. "I say we let him   
continue with business as usual," she suggested to no one in   
particular. "But I want to be the first one to bet that if he does,   
when time comes July, he'll be dead and buried."  
  
Her statement wasn't as outrageous as it sounded, and they all knew it.   
Apparently, so did Romero. He turned to face her.  
  
For one split second, she thought he might actually show some emotion.  
  
She was wrong.   
  
Tightly restrained and totally in control, he skimmed an icy glance   
from the toes of her functional black pumps, up her sensible gray suit   
and white oxford-cloth shirt, to the top of her head.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"Special Agent Serena Ellison. FBI."   
  
Convinced that any sign of weakness would be a tactical error. Serena   
met look for look. "We were introduced when the meeting started."  
  
Of course Romero remembered. Something told her he never forgot a   
face, or a name, or a woman. He waved away her explanation with one   
well-shaped hand.  
  
"Yes. Yes. I know that. I remember that. What I mean is, who are you?   
Who gives you the right to-,"  
  
"This is my case, Mr. Romero." Serena ignored the outraged looks on   
the faces of the two NYPD officers. They weren't putting their necks   
on the line. Not like she was. She'd fight with them later about her   
choice of words.   
  
"I'm the one who's been eating, sleeping, and breathing this assignment   
in these past twelve months. We've finally got all the evidence we   
need and we've finally got you, someone with the balls to testify. I   
don't know about anybody else in this room," she gave them all a quick   
look "but I'm not willing to lose everything I've worked so hard over   
just because you're too pig-headed to-,"  
  
"Special Agent Ellison!"  
  
It was the man from the commissioner's office, and Serena didn't have   
to look at him to know he was telling her she'd overstepped her   
boundaries. With an effort that left her knuckles white, she contained   
her anger and decided on another tactic.  
  
"Look…" Serena's voice was just about as unsteady as her stomach   
suddenly felt. She drew in a long breath, hoping to settle them both.   
"You're a pretty successful businessman, Mr. Romero." It was an   
understatement, but she didn't give Romero a chance to point that out.  
  
"You understand about fighting your way to the top. I've got a secret   
to share with you. I'm planning on using this case to make a name for   
myself. I deserve it. I've worked long and hard. I've talked to   
hundreds of people. I've read thousands of pages of information. I've   
looked at so many numbers on so many computer screens; my eyes hurt   
just thinking about it. I'm not going to let you blow it for me by   
getting yourself gunned down by some two bit hit man who's being paid   
to keep you from opening that mouth of yours."  
  
Was it her imagination, or was Romero actually surprised she'd had the   
nerve to tell him the truth?  
  
Before she could find out, Romero decided to make a great show of   
looking at his watch. He made an attempt for the door, but before he   
could even so much touch the knob, Serena said in a rock steady tone…  
  
"Hold it. Not so fast."   
  
Serena wasn't about to be put of by some egotistical male just because   
he said so. Not so easily.   
  
"We're not done. I told you I'm not willing to lose this case, and I   
mean it. You've got to listen to us, Mr. Romero. This is for your own   
fortification.  
  
Romero made that might have been a laugh. Or maybe it was just a growl   
of impatience.  
  
"I think," he said, "you're overreacting. I'm surprised an   
organization that runs as smoothly and efficiently as the local FBI   
office would tolerate such an overactive imagination in one of its   
agents."   
  
He gave Artemis a quick look. It was as friendly as it could be, but   
it left no doubt that if someone didn't shut Serena up, there'd be hell   
to pay.  
  
Artemis took the hint. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out an   
eight-by-ten glossy. He tipped the photograph forward so Romero could   
see it.  
  
"Malachite Bartone." He explained at Romero's questioning look.  
  
Serena didn't even bother to look at the photo. She'd studied it so   
many times, she could see it in her sleep, not that she particularly   
wanted to. It was a head-and shoulders shot of a sharp looking man.   
Silver hair. Ice chilling eyes, and a complexion so pale that he   
looked like he strived in the darkness, not that Bartone wasn't quite a   
looker, it was just that his eyes made it look like he was staring   
right at you.   
  
Sophia wasn't familiar with it, of course, and so she leaned forward   
for a better look. Kenneth Fielding came across the other side of the   
desk to take a look, too. Darien Romero bent forward, studied the   
photo, and then shifted a questioning gaze back to Artemis.  
  
"Seen him around?" Artemis asked.  
  
"Of course not."   
  
Whatever interest Darien Romero may have had in the picture and the   
question dissolved into a grunt of annoyance.   
  
"I'm not in the habit of keeping company with people whoa are regularly   
in police lineups. That is where that picture was taken, isn't it?"  
  
Artemis nodded.   
  
"A couple years ago. Unfortunately. Wish I knew where this guy was."  
  
Apparently Romero was not the type who was content with only part of   
the story. He pinned Artemis with a look, waiting for more.  
  
It was of course, exactly what Artemis wanted.  
  
"Bartone is the most skilled, the most vicious, and the most determined   
hit man on the East Coast," he said.  
  
"And you're telling me-,"  
  
"I'm telling you that you've made some powerful enemies, Mr. Romero.   
They know you're going to testify against them, and I think they'll do   
anything they can do to stop you."  
  
"Bull!" Romero spun away and stalked over to his seat.  
  
Artemis nodded to Serena. He'd given her the rest of the photographs   
to bring along and, on signal; she retrieved them from her portfolio   
and took them across the room to Romero.  
  
"We've tried to keep him under surveillance, and we've had some luck,"   
she told him. "Bartone's been seen three times in the past month. And   
let me remind you, it's been a month since you agreed to testify."   
  
She offered the first two pictures to Romero one at a time.   
  
"The first time he was spotted, he was near the entrance to the garage   
of your Manhattan penthouse. The next time, he was on the street just   
in front of this building. The third time…"   
  
Before she gave him the final photograph, she looked up, watching to   
see what Romero's reaction might be.   
  
"The third time, he was right there."   
  
She pointed at a shadowy spot on the picture, a figure standing in the   
shade of a giant oak that grew alongside an impressive brick wall and   
Iron Gate.   
  
"Right outside your Long Island home."  
  
Darien barely looked at the photograph. He turned his full attention   
to Serena. At close range, his eyes were more intense than ever.   
There was a tiny crescent-shape scar at the left corner of his mouth   
and she watched it curiously out of the corner of her eye, jump when he   
gritted his teeth.  
  
When he spoke, his voice was so quite; she had to strain to hear it.  
  
"I'm not the type that runs from trouble, Agent Ellison."  
  
"No."  
  
For the first time, she knew they were in agreement.  
  
"I don't suppose you are."  
  
"I am the type of man who gets what I want. Every time."  
  
For the briefest of moments, his gaze slid from her face down to where   
the unbuttoning collar of her shirt bared the hollow at the base of her   
throat. Serena felt her blood rise in the opposite direction. Heat   
flooded her chest and raced up her neck and into her cheeks. It was a   
good think her skirt was just long enough to cover her knees, Otherwise   
he might've seen them knocking.  
  
If it weren't for this case, it was likely that Serena Ellison's and   
Darien Romero's paths would never have crossed, but had they been   
anywhere socially-some cocktail party or dinner or one of the society   
fund-raisers he was famous for attending-there would have been no   
question what he was hinting at.  
  
Somehow Serena managed to find her voice. She forced herself to   
pretend they were talking only about the fact that he wanted to be left   
alone until it was time for him to testify.   
  
"You can't always get what you want, Mr. Romero."  
  
"But if you try, sometimes…"   
  
He closed the space between them. Not enough to cause any of those   
still seated at the conference table to notice. Just enough for Serena   
to feel as if all the air had been sucked dry from the room.  
  
She scrambled to catch her broken breath and hold on to what was left   
of her common sense. It wasn't easy. Not when he was in full Romeo   
mode. She managed a small smile.   
  
"What you need Mr. Romero is a safe place to lie low and twenty-four-  
hour security. We've got the perfect place all ready for you. No one   
will be able to find you. Not even most of these people in this room."  
  
"You've been watching too many old movies!" With a bark of laughter   
that didn't contain any amusement, Romero backed away and broke the   
well practiced spell that held Serena dizzy and slightly confused.  
  
As graceful as an athlete, he moved towards the door, hauling Serena by   
the arm along with him.  
  
"It's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do," he said   
over his shoulder, effectively ending he meeting. "It's just that I am   
really a very busy man. You understand, don't you, Ms. Ellison?" He   
beamed a smile down at her at the same time he snapped open the thick   
metal door.  
  
Before Serena could find out, the door of the private room clicked open   
and an FBI agent sailed in.  
  
"I'm sorry to interrupt this meeting." He didn't look sorry. He   
looked almost…smug. Serena couldn't quite place his face and rank.   
Not at the moment.  
  
"Um, yes Agent Lasalle. What matters at hand are so important, that it   
deemed you to disrupt this conference?" asked Artemis.  
  
Right, that's who he was. Agent Juan Luc Lasalle, the new guy in HQ.   
He recently arrived a few days ago, just finished training and was   
somehow incredibly fascinated by the Martinez case. Unfortunately for   
him, Artemis had given him just about every folder and portfolio, for   
just about every other file in the cabinets, but the Martinez case. He   
seemed just like every other agent in the HQ, just another workaholic,   
but Serena had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't all he seemed to be.   
  
"Sir, the New York City Police Department has just received reports for   
the Martinez case, sir."  
  
"Oh, well, you still have to work on the Avery case, so…give me the   
information, and then get on with your case.  
  
Agent Lasalle looked a bit disgruntled, handed the reports to Artemis,   
but didn't show sign of leaving soon.  
  
"Agent Lasalle! This is not a playground where you can do as you   
please. Now start working on the Avery case, instead of poking your   
nose where it doesn't belong! Meaning the Martinez File!" barked   
Artemis.  
  
Serena caught a glimpse of the glaring headlines. Today, like every   
day for the past three weeks, the media was in a major frenzy over a   
dissident writer by the name of Rubeus Martinez, who was being help   
under house arrest in his homeland. With a book on the New York Times   
list and a reputation for working human rights, Martinez and his   
detention had become something of a crusade.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, but I can't leave, not when I have orders to attend   
to."  
  
"I GIVE YOU ORDERS, AND AT THIS MOMENT, I ORDER YOU TO LEAVE!" yelled   
Artemis, completely at his wits end. "Didn't mean to…Er…like interrupt   
anything. I was just gonna knock."  
  
Apparently he still wouldn't move, but he made a move for his right   
pocket.   
  
It was apparently that made Serena suspicious. Alerted by her sudden   
interest, Lasalle moved quickly. When he pulled his hand out from   
underneath, Serena caught a flash of light against the barrel of an   
automatic weapon.  
  
After that, instinct basically took over, and her first instinct was to   
keep Romero safe.  
  
At the same time she shoved Romero out of the way, Serena called a   
warning to Artemis and tackled the hired killer.  
  
He managed to get a shot off.  
  
It blew through the metal door, before Serena knocked the gun out of   
the guy's hands.  
  
The gun flew in one direction, Serena and Lasalle in the other. By the   
time she realized they were sprawled on the floor together and she had   
him in a painful headlock and his arm twisted behind his back, both   
tangled in her knee length long blonde hair, Artemis and the two   
detectives had things under control. They pulled the man away from   
Serena and had him up against the wall and cuffing him before she even   
had a chance to exhale.  
  
Someone offered her a hand up, and Serena automatically accepted it.   
When she finally unsuccessfully tried to neaten her hair for appearance   
and steadied herself on rubbery legs, she was more than a little   
surprised to find her self face-to-face with Darien Romero.  
  
Romero looked over at Kenneth Fielding, who had a phone in his hands,   
then at the team of company security guards who had apparently come   
running when Fielding called. He then turned his attention to Serena.  
  
"Thank You." He said, and he was either a remarkable actor, or he   
actually meant it. "I never thought…that is, I didn't imagine…"  
  
It was as much of an apology as she was likely to get and Serena knew   
it. She nodded her head and took a step forward. It wasn't until she   
nearly fell that she realized one of her shoes was missing.  
  
"Careful!"  
  
Romero grabbed to brace her. His hand was steady around her slim   
waist, his grip tight and warm, and Serena wondered if he was trying to   
reassure her, or calm himself.  
  
"Do you believe me now, Mr. Romero?" she asked.  
  
Romero looked over to were the two detectives were repeated the Miranda   
warning to the now arrested Lasalle.   
  
"But that wasn't-,"  
  
"Bartone? No, it was one of his more likely slow handymen."  
  
Wondering if the rush of adrenaline that was making her heart pump   
wildly was caused by the attempt on Romero's life or the fact he was   
still holding her quite intimately. Serna sucked in a lungful of air.  
  
"But you can be sure he was behind it. Which means-,"  
  
"He'll try it again."  
  
Romero didn't sound discouraged or afraid. He accepted the truth with   
no more than a nod and a grim sort of determination that made his jaw   
go rigid. An expression she could only describe as outrage flashed   
across his face. He glanced at Serena out of the corner of his eye.   
  
"Looks like you win." He said.  
  
"No."  
  
She couldn't quite bring herself to smile.  
  
"Looks like you do. The sooner we put some distance between you and   
New York, the safer you'll be. Don't."  
  
She stopped him when he made a move to talk to Kenneth Fielding.  
  
"I told you. No one needs to know any more about this than they   
already do."  
  
"Very well." He didn't argue. Funny what a near-death experience can   
do to some people. It seemed to have knocked some sense into Darien   
Romero's pretty head. "But my papers…my clothes…how will I-?"  
  
"We've got everything you need, including a new identity for you to use   
for the next four months. You'll get a full briefing on the way."  
  
"On the way…where?" It was clear Romero was the type of man who liked   
to have all the facts at his fingertips and all the secrets in his   
toes. And just as clear, at least to Serena, that this was not the   
time or place to discuss them. Not when the office was swarming with   
people, not when she didn't know which of those people she could trust.  
  
"It's a secure place," she told him. "Right about now, I'd say that's   
all that matters."  
  
Romero didn't look convinced. Lasalle was being carted off out the   
door into the hallway, and she could tell that the near-death   
experience was already fading and Romero and his big-mouthed protests   
were about to come back in full force. Before they could though,   
Serena gave Artemis Harrison a signal that told him everything was   
finally under control. Artemis hurried over looking more relieved than   
surprised, and hustled Romero out of the room.  
  
Watching them go, Serena's insides went icy cold, then suddenly hot.  
  
Though witness protection was usually left up to the U.S. Marshals   
Service, the powers-that-be had decided this was a special case.   
Darien Romero was a special witness. They'd decided that the FBI   
should be in on this operation, beginning to end. Thanks to Artemis's   
recommendation, Artemis's urging, Artemis's encouragement, and in no   
little part to Artemis's less-than-subtle hints that she'd better not   
even think about opposing the decision, Serena had been chose to spend   
the next four months with Romero at the safe house. It was enough to   
make any woman week-kneed.  
  
The next second, Serena thought about the house, and about the identity   
they had prepared for the Romeo of the tabloids, and she found herself   
with a grin on her face. She bent to retrieve her abandoned shoe, and   
once she'd slipped it on, she followed Artemis and Romero out of the   
door, mumbling under her breath.  
  
"Maybe you can't always get what you want, but you know what, Romeo?   
This time you're going to get exactly what you need." 


	2. A New Kind Of Life

Reinventing Romeo  
  
Author: Dipi  
  
Genre: Alternate Reality, Fantasy, Action, Romance  
  
Rating: R   
  
Chapter 2  
  
"You have GOT to be kidding me."  
  
Darien Romero prided himself in being the kind of man who wasn't easily   
surprised, or easily shaken. But this was a bit out of line.  
  
He stopped short on the crumbling sidewalk in front of a sun dried   
yellow colored two-story house with chipped paint. His jaw dropped and   
rolled before he realized he had done it.  
  
"There's no way in hell I'm going to-,"  
  
"You might want to keep your voice down." At his side Serena wound her   
arm through his and beamed a smile up at him. It was an attractive   
smile, or at least it might have she not been talking through clenched   
teeth.  
  
"It's been a long day, my love," she said, biting off the last word.   
She glanced around quickly. "Why don't we get inside and discuss   
this."  
  
"Inside?"   
  
Darien made a perturbed look.   
  
"This house doesn't even look like it has an inside."  
  
Serena just growled and tugged his arm with her towards the door.  
  
If the looks of the house were bad enough, the smell was even worse. A   
rough, chemical taste caught at the back of Darien's throat and his   
eyes burned as tears flooded his eyes.  
  
"I've been more than cooperative," he grumbled lowly, and he knew it   
was true, even if Special Agent Serena Ellison did make a rude sound at   
that comment.  
  
"I agreed to the clothes," he whined quietly, glancing down at the ill-  
fitting jeans with holes covering every part except the area of his   
crotch and his behind. His T-shirt wasn't in much better shape. It   
was yellow, despite the original color of white. The threading and   
long stretched itself into a loose cloth piece.   
  
"I agreed to these preposterous glasses."   
  
With one hand, he gestured to the dark and thick-rimmed glasses he'd   
been given. The lenses were clear glass: he didn't need them to see,   
but Artemis had insisted on it, besides, it was either that or the fake   
mustache that looked like it had been cut right off of a black German   
Shepard.   
  
"I even agreed to the haircut."   
  
Alex smoothed one hand over his hair. He wasn't sure where the FBI had   
found the barber who'd worked on him, but he would bet a dime to a   
doughnut that the man had never even seen a pair of scissors in his   
life.   
  
His hair had been cut too short in the front, too uneven on the sides,   
and had been left too long in the back. It bristled with cowlicks   
Darien never knew he had.  
  
Sensing his frustration, or maybe it was just because she knew it would   
provoke him further, Serena Ellison gave him a pate on the arm and   
spoke in a voice that reminded him of the patronizing tone used by   
kindergarten teachers, traffic cops, and doctors right before they   
said, "Bend Over."  
  
"I know it's been rough. You even lowered yourself to fly all the way   
to Italy, coach class."  
  
Finally she was beginning to understand. Darien nodded. "And to drive   
from the airport in that thing."  
  
His upper lip curling, he glanced over his shoulder past the battered   
fifteen-year-old rusty mailbox with the red flag that was bent and   
crooked to lock eyes with the beat up rusty 1987 Toyota.  
  
"I'm about to blow if I don't see something technical, and not made out   
of a amalgamation of screws and strings."  
  
This time, Serena made the sound of frustration, but he chose to ignore   
it completely and continue with his whining and ranting.  
  
"But this…"   
  
Darien looked the house up and down, glancing at the mailbox and his   
clothes all over again in less than a second.   
  
"This is…"  
  
"Home."  
  
Damn her. She was both bound and determined to get his goat or she   
really meant it. Either way, she was way too perky, almost as perky as   
she looked.  
  
And she looked pretty perky, no matter who objected.  
  
While Darien had been busy getting his so-called wardrobe, Serena had   
gone through some pretty major changes of her own. Back in New York,   
she was your typical career woman: buttoned down, buttoned up. All   
business. No nonsense.  
  
But with her long hair into two buns and pigtails streaming down her   
shoulders and her body wrapped like a mummy in a hot pink shirt with   
rainbow colored shirt that was made for a five-year-old. The woman   
looked like she came out of a Barbie thrift shop.  
  
Which of course, was the whole idea.  
  
"Four months…"   
  
"Yup."  
  
"Four months…"  
  
"Yup.   
  
"FOUR MONTHS!!!"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"How are you so calm about this!!!"  
  
"It's my job Romero. Now pipe down."  
  
"The gods must hate me…"  
  
Darien mumbled and he pulled himself towards the door.  
  
They dropped their two simple brown suitcases with a 'thump' on the   
stoop of the house.   
  
"Home Sweet Home." She cooed.  
  
"It lacks ambiance."  
  
"Doesn't have air-conditioning either."   
  
"Argh!!!"  
  
They took another slow and agonizing step as Kate fished for the key,   
but before they could take another step, a voice drifted to them from   
across the street.  
  
"Yoo-hoo! Welcome Neighbors! Hellooo!"   
  
Darien and Serena turned to find a blonde haired woman running across   
the street with curious eyes flashing. She resembled Serena in an   
uncanny way, despite the length of the hair. Serena's hair went down   
to her ankles, while this nosy new neighbor of theirs' had hair up to   
the waist.   
  
She was dressed in spandex shorts and an orange tube top with a match   
able red ribbon around her hair hurrying across the blacktopped street.  
  
"We've been waiting for you!"  
  
Darien took a quick look up and down the empty street. As far as he   
could tell, there was no we, no one but the woman, and had he been   
charitable, he might have decided she was the spokesperson, official or   
otherwise, for the neighborhood. But he was in no mood for generosity,   
and he wouldn't be until he got his life back in four months.  
  
Huffing and puffing, she stopped directly in front of them and gave   
them the kind of quick but efficient once over that was mastered only   
by years of practice.  
  
"My name's Mina! What's you twos?"  
  
Darien's eyebrow rose at her bad grammar. Then he suddenly realized he   
was stiff with nervousness that he forgot the name they had been given.  
  
Luckily, Serena didn't get the same way.  
  
"I'm Missy, and this is Stan."  
  
Mina, who had been paying attention to Serena most of the time, finally   
took notice of Darien. Mina, who was not much taller than Serena   
acquired Darien's height, which was a good chest taller than her.   
  
"Why, if you don't look just like…"  
  
The light faded as quickly as it came on. The woman snapped her   
fingers with impatience. "You know, you know that guy I'm talking   
about." She swung around to Kate, looking for assistance. "You know   
that guy I mean," she said. "That good-looking one who…oh never mind."  
  
"Andrew, my brother, he brought this place a while ago and he's renting   
it to us. You know when he told me about it, he said it was yellow,   
well it doesn't look very yellow to me. Your house…" Again, she turned   
both herself and the woman until they were facing the other side of the   
street and the house directly across from where they stood. It was   
garish beyond belief. The color was a mix of the rich ochre of Dijon   
mustard and the brassy tint of marigold.   
  
"Now there's a yellow house," Serena said.  
  
The woman beamed with pride.  
  
"Andrew, and if you don't know has the same name as your dear brother,   
just finished it. I told him to take it easy on the color, but you   
know how men can be." She poked a sharp elbow into Serena's ribs,   
causing her to choke.  
  
"My Andy is such a rascal! 'Mina' he says, you want yellow, by golly,   
you'll get yellow!" She laughed uncommonly pleased with the whole thing   
though Darien couldn't imagine a bit why.  
  
"You'll meet Andy one of these days." Mina informed them.  
  
"I can't wait."   
  
Even to his own ears, Darien's voice sounded a little too acid.   
Fortunately Mina didn't seem to notice.   
  
"How long have you twos been married?"  
  
Married?  
  
The question hurtled itself into Darien's gut and stayed there. He'd   
never thought of himself as a married man before, but then again, he   
never thought he'd have a hit man chasing his very being.  
  
Special Agent Ellison had said to play the game. The least he could do   
was oblige her.  
  
With a sleek smile and a throaty growl, he sidled up nice and close to   
Serena, slipping one arm around her waist, and resting his firm hands   
on her thigh.  
  
Serena flinched. It was more of a reaction than he's ever seen even   
the day before the phony FBI agent pulled a gun on them. He was   
flattered. Just to hearten things a bit, he even gave it a little   
squeeze, and gave Mina a wink.  
  
"We're newlyweds, so you'd understand if we wanted to spend some time   
alone."  
  
Mina's face went as red as Serena's went white. She twittered an   
answer and stepped aside to let them through.  
  
When they got there, Serena jammed the key with force into the lock and   
twisted roughly.  
  
"Newlyweds." Along with a curse, Serena mumbled the word so that Mina   
couldn't hear.   
  
"I don't remember reading that in our dossiers."  
  
"No." Darien agreed, his voice just as quiet. "But you have to admit,   
it's a brilliant strategy. If the neighbors wonder why we're not out   
as much, we can always tell them we spend most of our day in bed."  
  
"Bed?" Serena spat bitterly as the door finally opened.   
  
Darien smiled smugly, happy to know that after so many hours of   
inconvenience, discomfort, and aggravation, it was nice to know that   
his old charm could still work its magic. Even on someone such as   
Special Agent Serena Ellison.  
  
They slammed the door in Mina's wide-eyed face and Serena stomped in   
ahead of Darien.  
  
"Of all the pig-headed-"  
  
"Good-looking?"  
  
"Narcissistic-"  
  
"Classy?"  
  
"Stuffy-"   
  
  
"Illustrious?"   
  
"Egotistical-"  
  
"Refined?"  
  
"Self absorbed-"  
  
"Distinguished?"  
  
"Moronic men, I get stuck with Mr. Polish and Poise!"  
  
"I am hurt my lady, such crude language is only fit for a man in rags-"  
  
"Have you glanced at yourself in the mirror lately?"  
  
"You know you want me."  
  
"Please, if I'm going to watch over you 24/7, you'll have to cool that   
self-image of yourself, because this place isn't big enough for me, you   
and your big ego. So I advise, you either deflate it, or you can be   
dead by the end of this summer. I mean I can always blame your ego for   
your death. No charge on my part 


	3. The Morning Before The End

Reinventing Romeo  
  
Author: Dipi  
  
Genre: Alternate Reality, Fantasy, Action, Romansu  
  
Rating: R  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Rise and shine, Romeo!"  
  
Darien's bedroom door wasn't shut all the way, and when Serena rapped on it, it swung open. She took the opportunity to peek inside. Didn't it figure? He was still sound asleep.  
  
"Men." she grumbled.  
  
Because he was officially the guest of honor at this little masquerade, Darien had been given the larger of the house's two bedrooms, and since it was the master bedroom Stan and Missy were supposedly supposed to share, he'd also ended up with the queen-sized bed. In what little morning light crept itself around the frayed edges of the window shades, Serena saw that he was sleeping on his left side, sprawled against the pillows with the frumpy green striped cotton sheet tucked between his legs in a death grip. One of his arms was tucked underneath the yellow colored pillow; the other was flung across the empty spot at his side.  
  
She grumbled under her breath and stretched her neck, working out the nooks and crannies that came from sleeping on a lumpy mattress and a rock filled pillow. She envied Darien not only for his oversize bed but the fact that he'd somehow managed to sleep like a baby. How could he look so peaceful when the reflection staring back at her from the grimy bathroom mirror earlier that morning showed a woman who'd spent the night tossing and turning?  
  
Serena didn't even want to think about it. She didn't want to relive those hours of second-guessing herself.  
  
His stirring shook her from her trance-like state and a wicked thought overcame her mind. She wanted to test him, get back at him for the restless night he'd caused her the night before.  
  
Not the playboy-hunk-of-the-tabloids, Darien Romero, or the handsome-face- who-looked-back-at-the-cameras-and-smiled, Darien Romero, but the real Darien Romero. The one who, in the scant time they'd shared, had revealed himself to be arrogant, exasperating, disrespectful of even an idol like Smokey, and enough of a Romeo to make the most level-headed special agent in the entire Justice Department tingle with anticipation ever time he so much as looked her way.  
  
She slid her robe down past her shoulders to reveal a neckline of flesh and no more. Picking up an extra bed sheet that he'd previously discarded in his deep sleep she rapped it around her rather skimpy robe so to have the appearance of a naked body beneath. Rapping the sheet loosely around her body like a toga, she slowly slithered underneath Darien's bed sheet.  
  
"Damn.he's still knocked out." Serena mumbled below her breath.  
  
Sheet met contact with skin.  
  
"Shit! He sleeps undressed." she hissed, losing concentration and practically rolling onto him. Fortunately for her, he was still sleeping like a rock.  
  
Smiling angelically she tucked herself in, and rumpled her already messy and tangled long tresses. Taking a fistful of the blonde hair, she gently draped it over his revealed chest. Then she took another lock and let it fall gently off her creamy shoulder. Finally for some sweet revenge.  
  
"Hey baby.I thought I said to rise and shine."  
  
Darien snorted and mumbled something. He then went right on sleeping.  
  
She soothingly brought her index finger to trail down his hairless chest line all the way down the sheet lining covering his waist and down. Unfortunately for Serena, when she had reached over, she had to lean against Darien's back, causing her robe to drop much further down than PG- 13 would allow.  
  
Even more disastrous was that Darien had chosen this moment to turn around to find Serena flashing him in the morning light.literally. He choked and fell off the edge of the bed with no sheet for shielding.  
  
If Serena could possibly get any redder. The blood was beginning to travel up her neck. Barely composing herself, she pulled her robe back in place and meekly crawled over to help a bare butted Darien sprawled in all his glory on the cheap and itchy hotel carpeting.  
  
He was as Serena had hoped, definitely shaking. She reached a hand down to help him up, but things decide they want to get worse and so she loses her footing, and her hand grabs onto something that's obviously not Darien's hand, wrist, or arm. He made it clearer by squeaking a high-pitch beyond a male's vocal system would normally allow.  
  
She awkwardly got up and brushed her hands against her robe and continued her game now that she was more controlled.  
  
She smiled inwardly as she began her false accusations.  
  
"Y-You dog! You drunk bastard! I'm calling to your company to apologize, after I kill you!  
  
Suave and Smooth Romeo was now in the state of being tongue-tied all the way to his tonsils.  
  
Smirking to her subconscious she continued her rantings.  
  
"I'm suing you down to your last golden rich boy penny, till you have to file for bankruptcy! Sleeping with me without my consent has to be the most low-down dirty disgusting things any man has ever done to me! You are a shame to the social society! The rich really are spoiled aren't they? They think they can get away with anything do they? Well.get away with this!  
  
Getting swept away in her excitement, she punched Darien, possibly breaking his jaw.  
  
"Oops.sorry Dare.didn't mean for it to hehe.get so carried away."  
  
Darien slumped to the floor and let out a painful groan. He brought his arm to his jaw and tested to see if it could move. Results were not very promising.  
  
"What the HELL was that.ugh.all about."  
  
Serena self-consciously shuffled her feet and used the first excuse that came to mind. She'd used this every time since she had been able to.  
  
"Um.mood swings? They have a tendency to be much like a hangover.  
  
She then stormed out of the bedroom in a flurry of blonde hair and bed sheets.  
  
She crossed her room, slamming the laundry basket onto her bed, and bent over the suitcases she'd brought with her from New York. She didn't bother to look through the clothes. Handful after handful, she grabbed whatever was there and shoved it roughly into the basket. She'd already emptied one suitcase and had started on the second when her bedroom door swung open.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
Serena's finger's tightened around bright neon orange T-shirt that she'd just fished from her suitcase. She took a calming breath, willing the redness from her cheeks, and turned around.  
  
Unfortunately for Darien, Serena, in all her frenzy, had forgotten to change into something less.revealing.  
  
Now, her other shoulder had been covered, but one shoulder was still bare as was the top of her breast.  
  
Though it wasn't all peaches and cream in Serena's case either. He was definitely more covered now, but still very desirable.  
  
Slapped on him were black exercise shorts that didn't cover up very much. They came straight from a second hand store, just like the rest of their wardrobes. The elastic at the waist was pulled out of shape and hung low along the line of Darien's hips. His hair was wet and slicked back against his head, and hat, plus a night's growth of beard, made his face look rawboned and angular. He hadn't bothered with a shirt or shoes and there were drops of water on his chest. They sparkled like diamonds in the morning sunlight.  
  
Taking his embarrassment, he turned it into humor.  
  
"Say it ain't so!"  
  
Darien held both hands to his heart.  
  
"Missy, my love, you're not walking out on me, are you?"  
  
"Don't be an ass." Serena supposed she should have been grateful he was. It made her remember exactly what they were doing there, or at least what they were supposed to be doing. It also reminded her how much a pain in the behind Darien Romero could be. With a look that told him exactly that, she dumped everything left in her suitcase directly into the clothesbasket. "We're going to the Laundromat."  
  
"She'd never have imagined the day that Darien Romero would be at a loss for words. Even when the phony agent pulled a gun, he'd never lost his legendary aplomb. Now he stood with his mouth half open and a look in his eyes that told clearly told her she was nuts in his book.  
  
There was something about knowing she'd caught him by surprise that made Serena float on air. She grinned while she poked into the pockets that lined he inside of the suitcase.  
  
"I don't know about you," she told him, "but I'm not willing to wear any of this stuff 'til it's been washed."  
  
With two fingers, she lifted a remarkable piece of clothing out of one of the pockets. It was a shirt-or at least a shirt made of polyester lace. That was bad enough. The bilious shade of chartreuse was worse. So were the long, tight sleeves and the scooped-out neckline. To top it all off, the whiteness of it was long gone. A yellow substance stained the entire shirt like fabric. Whoever had snatched it off the rack sure didn't know Serena Ellison. It was at least two sizes too small.  
  
She held the shirt at arm's length and wrinkled her nose in distaste.  
  
"No telling where some of this stuff has been. Or who's worn it. Of course, that may not bother you, but I'd feel better if my stuff made the acquaintance of a little detergent and a whole lot of bleach."  
  
"And then you'll wear it?"  
  
For a second, Serena wondered what he was talking about. Then she saw his gaze slip from the lace shirt to the front of the pink shirt she was wearing with her jeans. His eyebrows did a slow slide up his forehead.  
  
"I gotta admit, Special Agent Ellison, in that lacy shirt, you'd look-"  
  
"Tacky?"  
  
There was no use in giving him the opportunity to charm here, especially since Serena was afraid one of these times, it might actually work. She stopped him before he had the chance. She tossed the shirt in with her other clothes, zipped her suitcase shut, and slid it under the bed.  
  
"It's up to you," she said. She didn't have to pretend; she honestly didn't care if he washed his clothes or not. "If you don't think your clothes need to be washed-"  
  
"Well, sure. Sure they need to be."  
  
As if working his way through the logic of the plan, Darien nodded.  
  
"You can just grab my stuff on your way out, and-"  
  
"Oh, no!" Serena cut him off.  
  
"Let's get something straight here, pretty boy. We may be playing house this summer, but the only thing I'll be doing for you is popping Bartone. And that means, I'm not willing to act the part of a little woman. I'm not going to pick up after you and I'm sure as hell not going to wash your clothes."  
  
"But-"  
  
"you want 'em washed, you wash 'em. You don't.," she shrugged. "then all I ask of is that you don't sit anywhere within a 2 mile radius of me." And with that, she headed towards the door.  
  
Darien stepped in front of the doorway. She had to give him credit; even in out-of-shape work out shorts, he looked like the chairman of the board. His eyes glinted with a spark that reminded Serena of sunlight against granite, he crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"I'll send them out," he said. "There must be a dry cleaner nearby, or a Laundromat that picks up and delivers."  
  
Serena laughed at the absurdity.  
  
"Wake-up call, we're in the hillbillies of Southern Italy, the most refined thing that your going to get out here is a plastic filet mignon.  
  
"But a Laundromat?" Darien's lip curled. "I'll pass."  
  
"Fortunately for me, you can't pass."  
  
Right before she got the door, Serena remembered her carry-on bag. She set down the basket and went back to the bed. She knelt and felt under it and when she found her carry-on, she pulled out the book that was inside and set it on her nightstand. The Bureau had made one concession to her wardrobe-new socks and underwear-and she retrieved the packages, sat on the floor with he back to the bed, and ripped at the corners of the plastic bags with her teeth. She finished tearing them open, pulling out the only things in the world she could say really belonged to her for the next four moths: nine pairs of white cotton panties and nine pairs of white cotton socks.  
  
"That's one of the rules. Don't you remember?" She asked Darien.  
  
"Whither thou goest, so goest I. And when I goest anywhere, thou must goest with me. Even when one goest to the Laundromat. I can't take the chance of leaving you alone."  
  
"Chance?" Annoyed and not reluctant to show it, Darien paced form the door to where Serena sat on the floor. It was poor strategy, Serena knew. With Darien standing and her sitting, he was in a much better position of power. She could just stand up, of course, but if she did, she'd be in dangerous proximity of Darien's bare arms, and Darien's bare chest, and the hint of Darien's bare hid that showed above the droopy waistband of the exercise shorts.  
  
She decided to stay put.  
  
"What kind of chance is there that anybody could ever find me in this hellhole?"  
  
Darien paced to the door and back again. The floor squeaked with his every step. "You said so yourself, you said that's why this was such a perfect hiding place. No one will ever find me. That's what you said. So go to the Laundromat by yourself and-"  
  
"No can do.' One by one, Serena balled up the empty bags and tossed them like basketballs into the wastepaper basket across the room. She made every shot. When Darien was a safe distance away from her, she pulled herself to her feet and brushed off the seat of her pants.  
  
"As much as I'd like to, I've got clear orders. I go where you go, you go where I go. I can't protect you if I can't see you, and that means I can't let you out of my sight. There's no going two ways this time Romero."  
  
He huffed snootily and looked away. She rolled her eyes to the back of her head, for a brief few seconds. She really didn't have time for his rich boy attitude.  
  
"Ready?" she asked.  
  
Darien didn't answer. She turned to find him looking at the book he'd picked up from her nightstand.  
  
"Rubeus Martinez. Strange Freedoms. You're reading this?"  
  
Serena wasn't even particularly sure why the question put her on the defensive. Maybe it was because she remembered that back in New York, Darien had shown that he was one of the legions of Martinez supporters.  
  
Not that Serena didn't think this was a good thing, it was true that Martinez was obviously a man of principle who wasn't afraid to put his money where his mouth was when it came to standing up fro what he believed in deeply for. But even before he'd become a cause celebrity, Martinez had been the envy of the intelligentsia and the darling of the social set. Lured by his reputation, not to mention the fact that everyone was talking about him, she'd plunked down her $26.95 at the local Barnes & Noble and plunged into Strange Freedoms. Frankly she couldn't understand what all the fuss was about.  
  
"Yes, I'm reading it."  
  
Serena tried to sound the way everyone else sounded when they talked about the brilliant Martinez.  
  
To Serena's surprise, Darien's body seemed to relax.  
  
"I see. Well, shall we go to the Laundromat then, Mi Lady?"  
  
Serena blinked a few times. Reading the book that his idol wrote was all it took to win him over? Romero was just too queer of a guy for her.  
  
  
  
Well folks. That's all there's going to be of Reinventing Romeo.  
  
It's far from over but if you'd like to read the actual book, look at the library nearest you. (How corny did that sound? ^_^)  
  
Review me if you like it, if you don't like it, or if you would like me to finish it. E-mail me at Dipi_chan@yahoo.com.  
  
Thank You, and God Bless. ~Sayo from Dipi_chan!~ 


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